


Ab Aeterno

by Hestiae



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hestiae/pseuds/Hestiae
Summary: Of bonded souls and eternity.Now playing:Eternal Springtime I and II: in which you find out Ascians have a sense of humor and are excellent napping spots; in which Emet-Selch finds you remember his true name.
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Lahabrea/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Reader, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 25
Kudos: 135





	1. Eternal Springtime I.

**Author's Note:**

> future drabbles will also include lahabrea and elidibus, because im an ascian fucker on main

The Rak’tika Greatwoods was so cacophonous, you could hardly hear yourself think. At the moment, you were mulling over the startling ease with which Emet-Selch had plucked Y’shtola from the lifestream. The simplicity of it all, the way he had casually snapped his fingers before she materialized, was unnerving. Additionally, the words he spoke as he conjured her wayward spirit, something about her soul’s color, gave you a seemingly random sense of nostalgia. You could not identify _why_ this poignancy had suddenly appeared, and it was bothering you almost as much as the Greatwoods’ sweltering humidity.

You sighed and plopped down on the ground, back resting against a tree’s rough trunk. Laying your head back, you fanned yourself with one hand, and sighed. The heat was getting to you, and the myriad responsibilities burdened onto you because of your new title as “Warrior of Darkness” was equally as exhausting.

Additionally, something in your aether felt off since you absorbed the remains of the Light Warden in Holminster Switch. More often than not you found yourself in some sort of pain: it was usually a headache, but sometimes a sharp blooming pain that radiated from your breast occurred, too.

Of course, there was no one you could confide to. As both the Warrior of Light _and_ Darkness, you must behave as a pillar of fortitude. There was no room for complaints, and you didn’t wish to worry the people of the First, either. What would become of their morale if they learned their vaulted warrior’s strength was waning?

Your eyes began to sting. You inhaled sharply and tried to navigate your thoughts to something else. Something less imminent.

You turned to your left, where your Ascian companion was lounging after his encounter with the lifestream, only to find him gone.

Though you did trust Emet-Selch more after he retrieved Y’shtola, you still felt uncomfortable when he was not in plain sight. You bit your lip, and considered that perhaps he decided to return to Fanow as well. But you could not spot the man’s ridiculous Garlean attire amongst the returning group, nor was he anywhere near them, as far as you could tell.

“Looking for someone, dear hero?”

You let out an embarrassing squeak as you heard the Ascian speak almost directly behind you. Face flushed with embarrassment, you craned your neck to catch a glimpse of the absurdly tall man, his broad back against the side of the tree you were currently resting upon.

Emet-Selch raised an eyebrow, a half-smile forming on his face, and murmured, “I did not think you the type to make such endearing sounds.”

You turned your entire body around to face him and mustered a frown, but your face still burned, and you were so tired.

“I was looking for you, but mayhap next time you could announce yourself in a less surprising manner.”

Emet-Selch’s slouched form towered over you as he made his way towards the front of the tree, that lazy half-smile still present. He crouched down next to you, and you moved over so he could rest his back against the trunk as well. He stared down at the now empty space with brows furrowed, as if confused, and you could not stop the tiny smile that made its way on your face. You pat the ground.

“You should rest. The light is strong, and this forest is unbearably hot. I cannot imagine how you feel with those ridiculous layers of robes on.”

Emet-Selch’s golden eyes seemed to soften for but a moment, and then his facade returned. Sitting next to you, he pressed his gloved hand to his heart in an exaggerated display of shock.

“Is Hydaelyn’s dear child soliciting an _Ascian_? And here I penned you a beacon of purity and everything good. I would be more than happy to oblige, of course, but—”

You slapped a hand over Emet-Selch’s mouth, though the sheer absurdity of his statement made your lips twitch upwards. You attempted to stifle your laughter, but the Ascian could see through your own performance. He pried your hand off his mouth and gently kissed the back of it, smouldering eyes meeting yours as he did so.

“I do enjoy a challenge, but there is no need to hide, my dear. You truly have the loveliest laugh.”

“Okay, okay, enough!” you concede, managing a chuckle, “By the Twelve, did you manage to inhale pheromones in the three minutes in which I lost you? What’s the matter with you, Ascian?”

That caused Emet-Selch to guffaw, and he crossed his arms as he leaned back.

“I would apologize, dear hero, but I’m afraid I have a good enough reason for this act. You seemed awfully melancholy, and as yet another show of my goodwill, I decided to comfort you.” He scoffed. “As if recovering your friend’s very being wasn’t enough. You’re welcome for both, by the way.”

You startled at the surprisingly candid statement. Your eyes widened and for a moment you stared at him, confusion crossing your face as the nagging feeling that you were forgetting something incredibly important began to claw at you.

“I…” you started, but trailed off, desperately trying to remember. But Emet-Selch was staring at you again, that strange wistful look in his eyes, and you decided to thank him instead.

“Thank you. For both saving Y’shtola and for attempting to soothe me.”

“_Attempting_? Are you telling me that after that preposterous act you’re still not alleviated?” Emet-Selch rolled his eyes, though he smiled, this one surprisingly genuine. “You mortals are so ungrateful.”

You laughed loudly, and as the two of you sat under the shade of the tree in a comfortable silence, it occurred to you that this was the first time in the past few suns that you were truly content, relaxed. And it was thanks to an Ascian, of all things.

You peered at him out of the corner of your eye. Emet-Selch’s face was tilted up towards the sky, and you wondered if it was uncomfortable for him, laying out here in the intense light for so long.

A detached thought entered your mind: _Emet-Selch is beautiful_. His eyebrows were impeccably done, and his dark eyelashes fanned his closed eyes. His high cheekbones could have been sculpted by an artisan. Those dark lips looked delectable, and for another absent moment you wondered how he would taste if you kissed him. You considered dragging your thumb across his bottom lip to feel how soft they were, but hesitated.

Emet-Selch was an Ascian, but despite this, you did not wish to make him uncomfortable. You rather enjoyed his company; the glib remarks and sarcastic comments, the roundabout way he went about simple gestures. You instead dropped your hand and carefully adjusted yourself so your side and his touched.

Leaning into him, you shyly rested your head on his shoulder, alert to any signs of discomfort or disgust. Finding none, your eyes slowly closed. For the first time in the past moon, you slept soundly.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Emet-Selch managed to repress the tenseness that had become an instinctual reaction to touch as they laid their head against his shoulder. They were weakened, somber, in perpetual pain. Even he could sense it through the everlasting tether between them that had become frayed after the fall of Amaurot, after their soul had become sundered.

After a moment, Emet-Selch opened his eyes and glanced down at them. They were curled up into his side and already deeply asleep, their head lolling against his shoulder. One of their hands clutched at his sleeve, and the other lay by his own gloved hand. He resisted the urge to brush a stray strand of hair behind their ear; to kiss their temple; to gather them onto his lap, cradling them against his chest. They were not his beloved Persephone.

_They are not my Persephone, but they are disconcertingly similar_, he thought, swallowing the painful lump forming in his throat.

How many years had Emet-Selch wandered these cursed, hollow shards searching for Persephone? He would settle for even Persephone’s shade, yet each time, without fail, he turned up empty handed.

One was too brash, their hair color all wrong, and another was too soft spoken. One was dead before he could even deign to observe them. He had seen them fallen in every which way, only to be reborn and agonized for the sake of their sweet mother Hydaelyn, again and again. It was maddening.

_But this one…._

This hero was almost identical to his bonded soul from Amaurot. Their visage, their personality...the rich cerulean of their soul, the random gold and plum specks that danced around it, even, was the same as Persephone’s. But they would never remember him, or anything regarding their past, for that matter. None of them would.

Emet-Selch sighed. He placed a gloved hand on their hair, stroking gently. They stirred in their sleep, said something he could not decipher, and he shushed them. He managed an arm around their waist and slowly pulled them flush against him.

“_Hades_…” they murmured, and Hades froze.

Hades dared not hope. Mayhaps he heard wrong. A trick of the Greatwoods, with its coagulated noises and birdsong; the light was rendering him delusional.

Suddenly his robes were too heavy and the sun was far too bright. Sweat beaded down his neck.

They slept soundly still, and he navigated a shaking hand towards their slack face. He considered waking them just to interrogate them about the name they had called in their dreams, but decided against it. They looked too peaceful.

_They know not know my true name. They could not know my true name. I heard wrong._

Hades steadied his breaths, attempted to asphyxiate the omniscient remnants of hope and optimism that began to plant their roots in his subconscious.

“_Hades…?_”

Hades let out a choked noise that was half gasp and half cry. They remembered. _They remembered_. He thought it impossible; the odds were impossibly low, but this shade remembered his true name. Unbidden tears started pooling in the corners of his golden eyes.

They shifted against him, burying their face in the plush fur of his coat.

Hades decided that upon their return to the waking world, he would ask them about it. Even should they not remember what they dreamt of, the fact that they murmured his name twice proved that somewhere deep in their mind was at least one shard of him; of his true name.

They stirred again and sighed. He squeezed lightly at their arm. Persephone was always calmed by the gesture; perhaps it would calm them too. He kissed the top of their head and for the first time in the entirety of his immortal life, he was at ease, waiting patiently.


	2. Eternal Springtime II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I rewrote this chapter a grand total of 9 times and still don’t really like how it turned out so sorry in advance ; ^ ; also this chapter involves a panic attack, so please keep that in mind!

When you finally awoke, eyes bleary and thoughts jumbled, you found yourself in Emet-Selch’s steadfast embrace. One arm clung to your waist, and the other was placed on his lap. You slowly stared at his hands, processed the fact that one was encircling your waist, and then made your way up to his face. Unsurprisingly, he wore that charming half-smile, but his molten eyes seemed to be searching for something in yours. 

For some unfathomable reason, you weren’t uncomfortable in his arms. In fact, you felt the warmth of comfort and security one feels when in their lover’s embrace. 

_ Lover’s embrace... _

Something jolted in you for but a moment. It was as if someone had attempted to strike a match, but after a single weak flame, it disintegrated into the dark again. You shifted so that you were leaning onto his side, your head now rested on his chest. You let a weary sigh pass your lips. 

Glancing up at him again, you found that he continued to stare at you with anticipation. It was mildly intimidating.

“Yes…?” you asked, though the word came out more feebly than you hoped, your voice somewhat hoarse from a couple bells’ worth of disuse. 

“Hero, I must ask you a question,” Emet-Selch started, his words unusually slow. It seemed as if every word in itself was a struggle to voice, and you tensed at the seriousness in his usually mirthful tone. 

The gloved hand on your waist delicately traveled up your side and stopped at your shoulder, squeezing it softly. 

This, too, made you feel safe; comfortably warm, despite the perpetual daylight’s unforgiving rays. _ What an odd reaction, _ you thought, and you couldn’t help but wonder _ why _ you instinctively reacted so. 

A faint smile teased his lips, and you found yourself melting under the tender look he had now fixed upon you. Just what was going on? 

Logically, you considered, you should not have even started to banter with the Ascian, not to mention nap in such an intimate manner next to him, but no one was around, and you enjoyed time spent with this eccentric immortal. 

You glanced up at the harshly radiant sky. There was obviously no indicator of time, the Greatwood still trapped in perpetual day, but you listened closely for the telltale chorus of creatures that, without fail, became active when it should have been dark out. _ Nothing _, you thought, relieved, and with some guilt you noted that you were avoiding your responsibilities. However, you acquiesced; even the Hero of the First required succor from time to time. 

Emet-Selch cleared his throat and you turned to him again. You held your breath as the Ascian began to speak.

“Does the name ‘Hades’ mean anything to you?”

The question was practically whispered and tinted with worry, and you absentmindedly thought that this was the most mortal you’d ever seen him. 

“Hades…” you repeated, your voice a murmur. The name tasted familiar as it rolled off your tongue. It felt as if sometime, somewhere, whoever this ‘Hades’ was had been important to you. Your heart thudded; you felt as if it was trying to break free from your chest. Yet whenever you attempted to think upon the name further, to search your mind for any familiarity, you hit a wall. An impenetrable one at that. 

Your perpetual headache only strengthened. 

“I…” you trailed off as you took in Emet-Selch’s vulnerable expression; his brows were furrowed and his gilded eyes scanned your face with methodical intensity. You swallowed, a lump forming in your dry throat. You willed your shaking voice to continue, “The name sounds familiar. Truly, it does, but…” 

You trailed off and awaited the inevitable sarcastic answer or quip; the melodramatic explanation as to why you were inferior, but the only sound heard was from the forest’s ambiance.

The silence was somewhat awkward, but you were unsure of what to say. Emet-Selch’s gloved hand rubbed the bridge of his nose. He exhaled heavily, pursed his lips, adjusted his coat. 

“Very well.”

And after those two words, the Ascian leaned back. His face was completely neutral. The expression seemed artificial. You stared at him, eyes wide with bewilderment at his unusual stoicism. You cocked your head to the side. 

You expected Emet-Selch to explain himself; offer at least a modicum of information regarding Hades; who this ‘Hades’ was and why he asked you about them in the first place, but the silence stretched on.

“Um ...won't you tell me who Hades is?” you attempted to garner more information out of the man, but failed. 

“Mayhaps one day,” Emet-Selch murmured. You pouted and considered arguing with him, but before you could say anything he nudged you off his side and stood up, brushing the dirt off his Garlean robes. Smiling at you somewhat forlornly, he offered his hand. 

“Let us away, now. Your Scion friends are most likely worried about your sudden disappearance.”

You sighed and considered fixing him with your angriest glare, but instead you took his gloved hand, and pulled yourself up. You wiped your brow with a huff, sweat having accumulated from both the humidity and your embarrassment, and the Ascian laughed at your obvious discontent. 

“Now, now, hero, don’t you have anything to do? Some menial chores to keep you busy? Maybe another Lightwarden to subdue?”

“I suppose,” you grumbled, fixing your eyes upon the expanse of light above. In truth, you did not want to retire to Fanow just yet. Despite the short nap, you were still exhausted. Mostly mentally, but even so, your head began its timely painful cadence as soon as you had woken up. 

Defeatedly, you slumped your shoulders, but noticed that Emet-Selch had not released your hand. In fact, he continued on without so much as a smug glance, as if the two of you were lovers and it was simply….natural. A light blush dusted your cheeks. He probably noticed your blush as well, nothing went unnoticed to him, but he ignored it. 

“Well then, shall we?” 

Emet-Selch bowed dramatically and brought your hand to his painted lips: a delicate mockery of a chivalric act. 

“Fine, we can leave now. Enough of that,” you relinquished your exhausted expression in favor of a happier one; a lighter one. Your forced chuckle sounded weak even to you, despite the fact that hiding your true feelings was natural to you. Regardless, you were surprised when it seemed as if Emet-Selch had fallen for your ruse. Somewhere deep inside you, though, you hoped he would notice your facade; as both an ancient being as well as an obviously gifted actor himself, you assumed everyone was transparent to him. 

You snuffed out your strange thoughts, and Emet-Selch led you through the tangle of greenery and marshes, your hand in his. 

* * *

  
  


Luckily, the Ascian had the foresight to disappear into a void of his own creation as soon as Fanow’s wooden structures were in sight. You were silently thankful for that. You doubted the Scions would take kindly to you returning, blushing like a lovestruck maiden and hand in hand with what should have been a mortal enemy. 

Predictably, you were bombarded with various requests and tasks as soon as you entered the village. You had no qualms against taking them, of course, but your eyelids felt heavier as the day progressed, and your headache did not cease. By the end of the day you were more than ready to retire to your quarters.

The room the Viis had gifted you was a modest one: it had a hammock to sleep on, as well as a wooden table and set of chairs. They set a wash bin in the hut sometime during your dinner with the Scions. Despite the fact that their living arrangements differed from what you were used to, you were grateful for their hospitality.

You peeled off your dirty armor and threw it piece by piece atop a chair. You rummaged through your pack for a sleeping tunic. You were exhausted, your actions barely cognizant, but you were nothing if not respectful, and you did not want to soil the hammock with the sweat and dirt that had accumulated on you throughout the day. 

You dipped your toe in the washbin with a pleased sigh; the water was the perfect temperature, and scrubbed yourself clean with a floral scented soap the Viis had apparently left as well. 

You dried yourself, donned your sleeping tunic, and collapsed onto the hammock. Sleep took you within seconds.

_ “Hades?”_

_ You opened your eyes slowly; it was an ordeal to do so. You felt as if your eyelids had been sewn shut, and your consciousness was just barely present. You craved sleep, but your curiosity seized you once you heard the name ‘Hades’. You forced yourself to be present. _

_ You examined your surroundings: you stood in a room made of mahogany and what appeared to be bronze. Two windows that stretched from ceiling to floor made up one section of the room. They offered a stunning view of the city outside. _

_ The cloudy sky cast the city in a shadow, but it did not take from its esoteric beauty. Its spires still coiled upwards, and its massive structures glowed with the pearly white material that they were constructed from as well as the bronze adornments attached to them. _

_With some effort, you tore your eyes from the cityscape and forced yourself to instead focus on finding Hades. _

_ The room was furnished sparsely: a bench that matched the bronze of the room, a table on which papers were piled in a neat stack, a nightstand with various books whose names you could not make out, and a large, plush bed that took up most of the space in the room. Currently the room held no occupants, but you still felt as if you were intruding. _

_ “Hades? Are you home?” _

_ The voice again. You needed to find its owner. You needed to find Hades. Though you held no stakes in whatever fantastic dream this was, for some reason your heart ached with a burning need to solve the mystery Emet-Selch so cruelly left you with. _

_You assumed you were in the bedroom of what was a lavish apartment, and since Hades was not in this room, you decided to wander outside. As quietly as you could, you turned the door’s handle. _

_ At the same time, you heard someone curse somewhere outside and fumble with a set of keys. As they burst into the apartment, you exited the bedroom into the kitchen and living area. The individual calling for Hades wore a white avian mask that covered the top half of their face. Their robes billowed after them as they entered the apartment and shut the door behind them._

_ “Hades, I’m coming in,” they announced, though you doubted this ‘Hades’ was home. _

_You froze as the visitor stared right through you. How would they react with a stranger exploring Hades’ apartment? You gulped and stood stock still, preparing an excuse. But they did not acknowledge you; in fact, they walked right through you to check the bedroom. _

_ You were unsettled yet grateful for your newfound invisibility. _

_ They left the bedroom with a sigh and dropped ungracefully onto a ruby chaise lounge. _

_ They put their masked face in their hands and groaned, “I can’t believe I left my concept specifications with Hades….”_

_ Another sigh. _

_ “On the day it was to be evaluated, no less….”_

_ And then they removed their mask from their face, and removed the cowl from their head. _

_ Your eyes widened in horror, and your mouth opened and closed a few times in what was a futile attempt to diffuse the panic that flitted about in the pit of your stomach._

_ It was as if you were observing a mirror image of yourself. _

_ The person calling for Hades was….you ...? _

_ Even after staring at this other you for minutes, paralyzed by both fear and uncertainty, you still couldn’t fathom it. This is a dream, of course, you attempted to soothe yourself. Yet something in your gut begged to differ. This was a dream….right? Your throat suddenly felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton._

_ What were you doing here, dressed in robes and a mask, searching for Hades? What are concept specifications? Evaluations? Questions flickered through your mind at the speed of light. You couldn’t conjure an answer for even one. _

_The other you jumped as the front door swung open, and yet another person, this one donning a striking bright red mask, entered the apartment. _

_ This could very likely be Hades, you noted, but you were still unsettled from meeting this alternate you, and your anxiety only increased as you wondered who Hades was to them. Someone important, evidently, since he gifted the other you a copy of the keys to his apartment. _

_ Hades’ eyes met your reflection’s eyes, and for a moment you worried for the wellbeing of this alternate you. Alas, your reflection stood up and trapped the other in an overwhelming embrace. _

_ The other chuckled at your reflection’s actions and smoothed their hair. _

_ A familiarity nagged at you. Nostalgia; a feeling you had heard that laugh before. You sequestered it away. _

_ “Hello to you too, my love.” The other’s voice was deep and rich and reminded you of velvet. _

_ Your reflection finally released him and laughed, standing on tiptoe to gift him a chaste kiss. Your stomach churned. It was strange to watch yourself from outside your own body. _

_ The man grinned and placed his belongings on the marble table in the center of the room. As he arranged them he said, “I adore your surprise visits, my treasure, but I have a feeling you’re here because you forgot something….” _

_ Your reflection seemed to remember their purpose. _

_ “Yes! I left my concept specifications with you at lunch, and---” _

_ “These?” _

_ The man waved the papers above you. _

_ “Yes, those,” your reflection gasped, but as you went to collect them, he jostled them just out of your reach. _

_ “Not yet. I believe I deserve a thank you for returning these precious plans.” _

_ Your reflection barked a laugh and crossed their arms. “Thank you, oh eminent Hades.” _

_ “Actually, I’d prefer a more physical thank you,” Hades said, tapping one long finger on his lips cheekily. _

_ “Beggars can’t be choosers, Hades.” _

_ “How fortunate, then, that I am not the beggar in this situation.” _

_ The other you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed your feigned exasperation. The banter was so fluid, so natural; from this interaction alone you felt like they were made for each other. _

_ The other you wasn’t finished with this playful cadence, it seemed, and continued with a laugh:“I gave you a kiss when you walked in, you ridiculous man!” _

_ “Well, I would like another. Is it such a crime to wish for kisses from my beloved?” _

_ You sauntered towards him, tapping at the bright red mask. _

_Hades removed his cowl, revealing soft, snowy hair, and then he removed his mask, just as you had earlier._

_ Hades had the same piercing gold eyes, sharp cheekbones, angular nose, and tinted lips as Emet-Selch. Hades was Emet-Selch. Hades is Emet-Selch? _

_ Yet again you were hit with a wave of nausea. You stared down at your shaking hands and attempted to calm yourself, but a whisper of your name caused you to look up again. _

_ Hades expression was filled with absolute adoration, with affection and love so strong it nigh physically overwhelmed you. He grabbed at your hands and again whispered your name softly, lovingly. _

_ Your hands. _

_ Your hands, not your reflection’s hands…? _

_ When had he gotten so close to you? _

_ How did he know your name? _

_ Your breath hitched. You looked down to see not your sleep tunic, but black robes. You were no longer a passive observer in the corner of the room; a ghost, but instead now your reflection itself. _

_ When had you abandoned your body? When had you donned these robes? Your thoughts were no longer yours, or was your reflection’s thoughts no longer theirs? _

_ When had you been absorbed into this person’s very being? _

_ You were paralyzed in this other’s body, and an inexplicable warmth bloomed inside you as you planted a kiss on your lover’s soft lips. _

_ When had you fallen in love with Hades? With Emet-Selch? _

_ You winced as his hold on your hands became crushingly painful. You looked up at him, questioningly. Sharp gilded eyes met yours. He examined you, the soft expression on his face slowly twisting into a palpable outrage. He could see through you. He knew--- _

You woke up just in time to stop the scream threatening to tear from your throat. You were a sobbing mess, breathing deeply as if you were almost asphyxiated in your sleep. You choked on a cry and buried your head in your hands. You attempted to ground yourself, clutching at the cloth of the hammock as if it was a lifeline.

What was that? Why? That was Hades. Emet-Selch is Hades. Was it a dream, though? It had to be a dream. _ It had to. _

A myriad of coalescent thoughts passed through your mind.

Your hands trembled as you attempted to steady yourself, and you noticed with much displeasure the nausea building up in your stomach. 

The room was shrinking in on you, and the illumination from outside seemed to pierce through your very being. The heat and humidity were suddenly far too much to handle; your body felt as if it was crumbling away. You needed to get out of here. You needed to leave this place. _ Now _. 

You nearly tripped over yourself in your rush to leave. Lungs still heaving, you dressed yourself in clothes too thin to be suitable for adventuring, wrapped yourself in a cowl, and ventured into the heart of the Greatwood. You followed your aching legs, paying no mind to directions or your surroundings. 

While walking down a path paved with clusters of little sapphire flowers, your eyes began to water, and your throat tightened. For some odd reason, there was a terrible pang in your heart. The tears pooled. You were so, so tired, and you finally let your tears flow unbidden, trying to force yourself to feel every emotion, every inch of pain you had so obediently kept stowed away to play the role of vaulted warrior without flaw. 

You continued on.

Though you did not have any one direction in mind, apparently your subconscious did, and you found yourself in front of the tree at which you and Emet-Selch (_Hades_, _ you corrected yourself) _ conversed just half a day ago. 

You were exhausted from both the adrenaline-fueled walk to reach this place as well as the light festering inside you, and with a resigned sigh, you unceremoniously dropped down. You let your head loll forwards, the eternal light of day far too bright to bear, and as you laid your back against the trunk, you realized that in your haste to leave your temporary abode, you forgot your weapon. Sighing yet again, you threw your heavy cowl off and attempted to steady your racing heart. 

“Oh? What have we here?”

You nearly screamed for the second time within a bell at Hades’ voice; it was certainly not welcome at the moment. You cursed and scrubbed the tear stains that marred your face, and prayed to both Hydaelyn and the Twelve that he did not notice your state of distress. You didn’t need this ancient being, whose attention you so adored, to be disappointed in you any more than he already was.

The Ascian sauntered in front of you, examining your sitting form as a butcher would livestock. He raised a perfectly crafted eyebrow, and after scanning you up and down, crouched down to your eye level. He took in your discarded cowl, your flimsy robes, your missing weapon. 

You tensed. If the man’s final plan ended with your murder, you just made his life malms easier. You considered running for just a brief moment; but before you could even consider an escape, Hades raised a hand to your cheek. You flinched; his touch was unexpected, and you were already on edge.

Hades laughed. It wasn’t the same melodic laugh from the dream with your reflection. His laugh had become much more cruel; burdened and sardonic. 

“No need to worry, hero. I still wish to continue this camaraderie.” His thumb glided across the top of your cheekbones, and he tutted as he swept underneath your eyes, still swollen and red; an obvious testament to your tears. 

“Well? What ails you, then?” 

Your chest still hurt, your mind was still a foggy mess, and the nausea had just worsened with the physical exertion of walking. Your body shook, and you could feel your eyes filling with tears, yet again. You begged the tears to recede, tried to blink them away, you did not want Hades to see you like this, but everything hurt and you were just so tired and confused and needed to _ sleep _\---

The pathetic whimper came unbidden, but the choked sob that followed was predictable. 

Your resolve broke, and your sobs gave way to wails. You refused to look Hades in the eyes: how disappointed he would be in your fragile mental state; the disgustingly pitiful way you failed to save the tears for later, for moments when you were alone, like you always had and always should. 

Hades’ hands still cupped your cheeks, though he had given up on stemming the torrent of tears running down your face. He hummed. 

“Hero….”

You would not answer. You could not answer. Your chest felt tight again; the humidity was coalescing in your lungs. 

“You must breathe, my dear.” 

Hades’ voice sounded so far away. He called your name.

“Just breathe.”

You tried; really, you did. But every breath felt as if you were inhaling water, and your state of panic only heightened as your heart beat far too fast.

You heard a sigh, and then felt the telltale rustle of fine robes brushing your shoulder. 

You startled as you felt Hades tug you towards him. He squeezed your shoulder, and tilted your chin up with his other hand. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” Hades instructed, his voice low and strangely soothing, “Focus on me. Think of nothing else. Breathe.” 

You were unsure what type of magic he had used, but as you stared at him, attempting to fill your lungs with air one refreshing breath at a time, you felt your coiled muscles relax. It was as if all the tensions of your recent adventures on the First as well as all the rancid light bubbling up inside you had been stymied. You melted into his touch with a sigh. 

Hades had removed the silk gloves from his hands and stroked your hair slowly, softly. You exhaled slowly at the warmth of his embrace and listened to the comforting constant of his heartbeat. 

Despite Hades’ surprising poise, you still felt humiliated. Attempting to simply disappear, you buried your face into the fur on his robes, but forced yourself to breath deep, to still your heart. You did not want an encore of whatever that was.

“That’s the way,” you heard Hades hum, rubbing circles into your shoulder. 

Adrenaline’s hold on your body had subsided, you no longer felt suffocated by the very air, and your weeping had concluded, for the moment at least. 

You sniffled. Hades was still holding you close. You felt so weak; so pathetic. You nervously waited for the impending speech about the shortcomings and uselessness of sundered souls. But Hades only continued stroking your hair, continued pressing you close to him, as if he let go you would disappear. 

“I….” you started, resolute to tell him about your strange dream, but you did not have the will to speak full sentences, and your voice was horribly raspy, so you simply said, “Nightmare.” 

Hades nodded. He did not speak. 

You breathed deep and placed a hand on your chest, continuing to focus on Hades; on the texture of his robes, the way his hand still raked through your hair, the comfort of his hold on you. Another deep breath, this time an attempt to steady your voice as you explained your strangely visceral dream:

“I dreamed of someone named Hades.”

Hades’ hands stopped atop your head. You forced yourself to continue.

“I dreamed of a beautiful city, someone who could have been my reflection, and a man who could have very well been yours. He called himself Hades. Are ...are you Hades?” You glanced up at him, searching for a reaction. 

You noticed the way his jaw clenched. He inhaled sharply and then looked away, seemingly engrossed in some kind of internal struggle. Finally, Hades bit his lip and turned his gaze back towards you, his next words painstakingly slow.

“‘Twas but a dream, was it not?” 

You considered acquiescing; admitting that it was a strange dream and forgetting all about the strange conversation, but something in your subconscious insisted you were reliving a memory. Hades’ favorable treatment towards you, the way he seemed to keep an eternal watch upon you, would all make sense, if the two of you were involved in a past life. Resigned, you decided you would find the truth, with or without Hades’ help.

“You tell me.” 

It was obvious Hades was far more knowledgeable than his questioning tones suggested. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed; his gaze was locked onto yours, and it seemed as if he was mulling over something in his mind.

“What you saw was not a dream. ‘Twas a memory, albeit one from some millennia ago,” he started. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes: “...You are correct in assuming I am Hades.” 

You nodded, silent. Though you expected his answer, you did not expect him to admit it so early on in your conversation. Until now the Ascian had been indirect, sarcastic; not one to answer questions so easily. 

You felt Hades tense, the coil of his muscles hardly noticeable beneath layers of robes; it seemed as if he was having difficulties anticipating your reaction. A normal reaction, you supposed, would be one involving vehement denial or disgust, so you could not blame him. You felt neither, however; Hades’ very presence always soothed you, as paradoxical as it seemed, and for all intents and purposes, you were absolutely, undeniably in love. 

So you placed your hand against his cool cheek, eyes meeting his as you pressed a chaste kiss upon his other. Hades’ expression softened, and you felt him relax. 

“Hades…” you murmured again, his true name too sweet to resist repeating. He laughed breathily. This laugh was closer to the one you heard in your dreams.

You removed your hand and placed your head back on his chest. It was silent save for the steady beat of his heart. You revelled in its consistency; its ability to anchor. Absentmindedly you wondered if he even needed a heartbeat, or if he was imitating the sound for your comfort. 

Hades repositioned himself so you were more comfortable, leaning back so you could rest yourself more fully upon him. He laughed again, burying his face in your hair, and you felt the presence of some tears; the slight catch in his laughter as it transformed into a choked cry. You intertwined your hands in his, and gently squeezed. 

_ Hades’ existence must have been so painfully lonely. _

Your mind still reeled from the nightmare and the panic, but for the moment, at least, you felt relatively stable.

The back of one of Hades’ hands suddenly stroked the side of your face, before it travelled down, and he tilted your chin up again. His glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks confirmed the fact that he was crying, but before you could say anything to comfort him, he asked you a question.

“Do you remember your name?”

You shook your head. “It never came up.” Hades was surprisingly generous with his answers today, so you ventured to ask another question: “Will you tell me?”

He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand, kissing your knuckles without removing his hands from your grasp. Hades’ smile was positively radiant, and you found yourself grinning in return.

“Persephone,” Hades murmured, “Your name is Persephone.”

This time his gaze was tender; not all that different from the one he fixed upon your reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternal Springtime is the name of a beautiful sculpture that was supposed to be apart of The Gates of Hell. It’s one of my favorite art pieces!
> 
> Side note, if you have any requests feel free to drop a comment! I’ve been having some writer’s block recently so ideas have not been coming to me easily.

**Author's Note:**

> still trying to get a grasp on his character but i hope i did him justice. please let me know how you liked this first part!


End file.
